(sonnet attempt # XLII)
XLII
Fans frequently are fickle folk, I find.
Forever so demanding, though they praise;
Impossible to please, to my dismay.
To earn their approbation I'm inclined:
A never-ending weary task behind
Which but eventually I fall, to raise
My head, discovering...alas! that they
Depart, amusement elsewhere thus in mind.
For efficacious flattery so fluent
There's none can beat in that so snaring ploy:
Sincerity assured with good intent,
They "butter-up" and thereby they destroy....
For giddy with applause, I lose my sense,
And do most anything to it enjoy!
16/25Feb11